


everything else might be fake (except for you and me)

by mynameis_not_cathofaragon



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Enjolras Has Feelings, Enjolras's Dad is a Dick, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Pride Parades, aka courferre jbm bazfeuilly jehanparnasse and mariposette, i guess, is this t is this gen who knows, surprisingly a lot of Handholding, the usual background ships too, very background though - Freeform, very brief though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameis_not_cathofaragon/pseuds/mynameis_not_cathofaragon
Summary: ""Kiss me.""What?""Kiss me," he repeated, eyes wide.And yeah, ok, maybe kissing Enjolras, the same Enjolras who he had been in love with for longer than he would admit, was a bad idea. But he was asking him of all people, and he looked downright desperate, and he was asking Grantaire to fucking kiss him, and he was only human."...or; five times Enjolras and Grantaire fake a relationship, and one time they don't.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 111





	everything else might be fake (except for you and me)

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: this is the second les mis fic i ever started, and has been in the works for two months, i just kept getting distracted (even if i did write and post two more fics in that time), so i apologise if there's a change in the style. i did edit it though

**1-**

“Kiss me.” 

Grantaire startled. He'd been distracted, leaning lazily against a wall, and the party was loud, so he hadn’t heard Enjolras come near him. 

“What?” 

“Kiss me,” he repeated, eyes wide, almost pleading. 

And yeah, ok, maybe kissing Enjolras, the same Enjolras who he had been in love with for longer than he would admit, was a bad idea. But he was asking him of all people, and he looked like he was freaking out, downright desperate, and he was asking Grantaire to fucking kiss him, and he was only human. 

“Alright,” he breathed, still confused. 

Enjolras didn’t waste time, bringing him close and pressing their lips together. Now, Grantaire hadn’t known what to expect, too astonished to form any coherent thoughts, but what he hadn’t been expecting was honest to god making out. 

Enjolras' lips were chapped, because of course they were, and he kissed like he talked, determined, passionate, merciless. Grantaire drank it all up, clinging to the moment like a lifeline. He heard himself letting out a sound from the back of his throat, and probably would have felt embarrassed if not for the fact that suddenly Enjolras was opening his mouth, the tip of his tongue pushing past his lips. 

He was too preoccupied committing every detail into his memory to notice when Enjolras moved them so now he was the one against the wall instead of Grantaire. He couldn’t be sure, as there was still a party going on loudly around them, but he thought he heard the blond make some delightful sounds as he pushed them flushed together. 

They could have been kissing for hours or seconds, Grantaire couldn’t tell, but all too soon it stopped. 

“Enjy!” 

Under him, Enjolras stiffened. Annoyed at the rude interruption, Grantaire disentangled himself from the other man enough to turn towards whoever was there, but didn’t go far; Enjolras made no attempt to move either, keeping an arm around his waist. 

In front of them, was a jerk. Well, technically he didn’t know that yet, but the guy’s demeanour screamed it, and not only because he had interrupted what most likely had been the only chance he’d ever have to kiss Enjolras. He was tall, more than him but less than Enjolras, and ripped, but Grantaire was certain he could beat him in a fight, if it ever came down to it; he had the whole “trying to look effortless but obviously trying to hard” thing going on, and a douchey smirk. Jerk. 

“Enjy!” He repeated the nickname that Grantaire knew Enjolras hated. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

Enjolras’ grip on his waist tightened. “Adrien.” 

"I thought maybe I’d take you to that new bar that just opened, huh?” 

Grantaire had to stop himself from openly gaping at the gall of the guy. Not only he didn’t care for the fact that they’d been literally making out not two minutes ago, but he wasn’t even asking Enjolras if he wanted to go with him. He understood then what the kissing was for. Entitled asshole. 

“I’m afraid Enjolras may be otherwise occupied,” he chimed in, punctuating his name intently, a saccharine smile taking place on his lips,” aren’t you, Apollo?” 

“Apollo?” Adam repeated, still smirking stupidly,” I thought you didn’t like nicknames.” 

“Some, I do.” 

André seemed to be about to say something else, but before he could open his mouth, Enjolras pointed somewhere in the distance. “Look, there’s Joly, we haven’t seen him in ages, let’s go say hi!” 

Grantaire knew that was a lie, first, because they’d had a Les Amis meeting two days ago that Joly had attended, and second, because he was certain he’d seen him some minutes ago in the complete opposite direction. Still, he said nothing, letting himself be dragged without either of them sparing a single glance towards Albert. 

Enjolras led him through all the partygoers easily, pretty much power-walking to “Joly”; that is to say, outside. Only when they were safely out in the backyard, the loud music coming from inside the house muffled and replaced by lively chatter at a more reasonable volume, did he let go of his hand. 

The cool night air hit Grantaire in the face, and made him miss his Apollo’s warmth. Besides him, Enjolras had slumped against the wall, his hands covering his face, drowning out the groan he let out. 

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” Seeing Enjolras’ almost miserable expression, he rushed to add, “not that I’m mad or anything.” He definitely wasn’t, and would do it again gladly. If needed, of course. 

He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry about that. Adrian and I went on two dates, if you could call them that, but he’s a jerk, I pretty much ghosted him after the second one,” he explained sheepishly. “Courf told me he’d seen him looking for me just now, and I freaked out, and you were there...,” he trailed off. 

Grantaire shrugged, smiling. “’s fine, glad to be of service.” 

Enjolras smiled back at this, making Grantaire’s heart do a little jump. “Well, I owe you one, so if you ever need a fake boyfriend, here I am.” 

* * *

**2-**

Grantaire hadn’t intended to take Enjolras up on his fake boyfriend offer, why would he? 

He'd been afraid things would get awkward between them after that night, which probably wouldn’t have hurt so much one, two years ago, back when their relationship had been rocky at best, but lately they’d done so much progress, actually becoming friends; one –mind-blowing- kiss wouldn’t have been worth it. 

His fears had been unfounded, though, as their relationship continued as always. Now, that was wonderful, of course, except for the fact that Grantaire couldn’t forget the pressure of Enjolras’ lips, dry and full and ruthless, against his own, the feeling of his body under him, the whimpers both of them had let out- 

Yup, he was fucked. 

Funnily enough, he did end up taking him up on his offer at another party, just two weeks after That Fateful Night, as he’d deemed it. 

He'd been talking to Bossuet about a show they had both watched, when his friend had waved over someone, an old classmate from high school who he’d recently met again in one of his classes. 

“Anne,” she’d introduced herself, smiling. 

She was nice to talk to, funny, and seemed somewhat interested in art, which was cool; she also seemed rather flirty. 

The three chatted for a while, before Bossuet left, having seen Joly and Musichetta arrive. Grantaire tried to make some more small talk, intending to leave soon as well. They were discussing a painting, but Anne kept inching closer and closer to him. 

Grantaire was growing antsy. He’d tried to refuse Anne subtly, not only because he wasn’t good at the whole being direct thing, but he also wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t just being herself; as far as he knew, she was simply a touchy person, and he didn’t want to come off as arrogant enough to think she was flirting when she wasn’t. 

Luckily, before long Anne’s intentions got clearer. Unluckily, she had, indeed, been flirting. 

“So,” she all but purred,” what do you say we get outta here?” 

“I -er-…" 

“Come on.” And now there was a hand gripping his forearm. “We’re both free, and it’s not like this is some special party or something.” 

_Fuck. Think, R._

_“_ I have a boyfriend,” he blurted out. 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You do? Where is he?.” 

“He -er...” 

He surveyed the room, trying to find someone to help him out. Now, he could simply tell her no, even if he hated any kind of confrontation that didn’t involve certain blue eyed mighty leader, and get away, he doubted she’d follow him anyway. Actually, he was about to do just that, when his eyes settled on someone. 

“Apollo!” 

Enjolras looked up, confusion written on his face at the nickname –even if he had responded to it. He locked eyes with Grantaire, who tried to convey the situation through his glance; he wasn’t sure he’d succeeded, but either way, Enjolras was making his way to where he was. 

“Anne, this is my boyfriend, Enjolras,” he said, as the blond approached them. 

He must have heard and understood, because as he came to stand next to him, he wrapped an arm around Grantaire’s waist smoothly, extending his other hand with a smile he usually reserved to people he didn’t want to deal with. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” 

Anne looked at them, displeasure clear on her features, before grabbing his hand. “Likewise,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ll go then.” 

And thus she was gone. 

Grantaire all but slumped against Enjolras, basking in the comfort of his body against his own. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

“Anytime. Guess we’re even now.” 

Huh, Grantaire had forgotten about that. He looked up, intending to make some joke, but instead lost himself in Enjolras’ eyes, as cheesy as that sounded. They were just so blue... 

Shaking his head slightly, he disentangled himself from him. He was still thinking about his eyes, so he couldn’t really filter what he said. “Wanna go enjoy the party, then, boyfriend?” 

It took him all of three seconds to realize he had called Enjolras boyfriend, and was already thinking of thirty-seven ways of apologizing, thinking he’d fucked up their relationship, when Enjolras smiled at him –an honest to god smile that showed his dimples. 

“Lead the way, _sweetheart_.” 

* * *

**3-**

Things got worse after that last party. 

Before, Grantaire’s fantasies of Enjolras had been few and far from each other, not letting himself have them; after the first Incident, however, they had become more common, and now he had an actual reference, which was both terrible and wonderful. 

Still, as bad as he felt having them, they were regular, lustful fantasies. After the thing with Anne, though, they had turned _domestic_. Sure, he still couldn’t get the feeling of Enjolras’ lips out of his head, but most of the time now, Grantaire found himself thinking about holding his hand or other coupley things like that. 

(Technically, he had had such fantasies before, too, but they had been even rarer than the other ones.) 

The worst thing? Somehow, they had grown even closer after that. During movie nights with the Amis, they would sit next to each other and keep a steady commentary of whatever movie they were watching –earning themselves more than one dirty look from their friends at their murmurs, even if they tried to keep it low. They'd text each other random thoughts, corny puns, and niche memes at any time of the day, too. Grantaire wasn’t sure how they had gotten there, but he wasn’t complaining, even if his heart was. 

Of course, their arguments during the meetings never stopped, but they had been debates rather than fights for a while now. Insults and harmful things were rarely, if ever, said, and in the end Enjolras often conceded that Grantaire usually had a point (which he did). Things were a bit calmer at meetings, and they could tell their friends appreciated it. 

Grantaire was happy with his friendship with Enjolras, he was, and he’d take platonic over nothing any day, but he couldn’t help the slightest bit of jealousy he sometimes felt when he looked at their friends, all in their happy relationships. He immediately felt guilt for it, after, too. 

Still, the feeling was there, especially now that they were all at pride, and there were even more couples were around them. Either way, the love he had for their friends, and the overall good energy, if a tad overwhelming, of the parade was stronger. 

There was a genuine smile on his face as he looked around him. He could see Feuilly sitting on Bahorel’s shoulders, Musichetta, Joly and Bossuet holding each other close, Jehan dancing with, or rather, next to, Montparnasse –who looked as collected at ever, but R knew was having fun by the soft look he was throwing Jehan and the slight upturning of his mouth-, Courfeyrac and Cosette twirling each other, laughing, Marius, Éponine and Combeferre on the side, but smiling at them. 

The only ones without a significant other were Enjolras and himself, and thus they found themselves walking close to each other. Grantaire couldn’t help but stare at Enjolras from time to time: unlike Courf and Jehan, who made a point of only wearing the most colourful rainbow clothes they could find, or Cosette, with her subtler but still obvious pink-purple-blue ensemble, Enjolras’ outfit was a simple white button up and skinny jeans, but he had rainbow suspenders on, and glitter on his hair –which Grantaire knew would be a bitch to get off later, but god, did he look good with it. 

At some point, they all got separated. He could still find their friends if he looked, but they weren’t one big group; Enjolras hadn’t left his side. And speaking of Apollo, his easy smile had been replaced by a frown. 

Grantaire followed his eyes, confused as to what could have upset him, until he found what Enjolras had been looking at. Some meters ahead of them, to the side, was a group of _conservatives,_ also known as ignorant idiots, holding stupid signs. Grantaire's mood fell a bit, too. This group didn’t seem violent, they mostly held their signs and shouted some shit, but otherwise didn’t move. Still, homophobic assholes always brought one down. 

Glancing around, he noticed a couple kissing, and an idea formed in his mind. Granted, it may have been a stupid one, but it was already there, and before he could lose his courage, he leaned towards Enjolras, close enough so that he could hear him over the noise around them. 

“Wanna piss off some assholes?” 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him, questioning but clearly interested. Grantaire gestured to the group, a mischievous smirk finding its way onto his face. Enjolras frowned at them, before his expression lit up at the prospect of pissing them off. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

Not trusting himself to say it out loud, Grantaire asked, “Do you trust me?” 

He was rather surprised when Enjolras’ response wasn’t an eyeroll, or some witty comment, but instead an earnest “ _Yes_ ”. 

Swallowing, he grabbed Enjolras’ hand, leading him closer to the conservatives and further from their friends, who he didn’t want to see what was about to, hopefully, happen. 

He didn’t let go of Enjolras’ hand, instead lifting the other one to cup the blond's face gently. He leaned in slowly, giving him enough time to back down if he wished so, but when Enjolras widened his eyes a fraction, understanding R’s plan, he didn’t pull away, instead grabbing him by the neck and crashing their lips together. 

Grantaire felt his breathe catch in his throat at the sudden impact, actually stumbling backwards a bit, but he quickly recovered, kissing back with equal force. His idea –though calling it an actual idea was perhaps a stretch- had been to kiss just enough so that it would bother the conservatives, but Enjolras was not having it. 

It was similar to their first kiss in more than one way. It was just as intense, if not more, hands grasping at everything they could reach, pulling apart to breathe only to get their mouths quickly back together; and the noise around them, like that night, also seemed to disappear, there was no one there but them. There was no wall to pin Enjolras, or himself, against, though, something Grantaire regretted as his knees felt close to giving up. 

He shouldn’t have worried, really, because next thing he knew, he was being dipped, Enjolras’ arms securely wrapped around him, preventing him from falling all the way down. Now, Grantaire had assumed Enjolras wasn’t weak by any means, even if he did seem to spend all of his free time reading or writing, but knowing that he was somehow strong enough to hold his weight -he wasn’t sure for how long, everything was kinda fuzzy at the moment- while still kissing him senseless? Yup, he was fucked, even more than before. 

After what could have been minutes, hours, weeks, Enjolras pulled him back up, giving him one last peck, which felt out of place being as chaste as it was, seeing as they had been making out quite intensely mere seconds before. He could hear some faint booing somewhere in the background, which had been the point of this little stunt, after all, pissing off bigots, but he couldn’t pay them any mind. 

Enjolras hadn’t walked away, in fact, he was still holding him tightly, and closely, by the hips. His hair was all messed up, the glitter even messier than before, and some of it had fallen on his shoulders, the sun making it shine. Grantaire wasn’t really focused on that though, his attention instead on the blush spreading over Enjolras’ tan skin, his half-lidded eyes, the way his lips, wet and redder than they already were, were parted just so, his breath shallow and irregular. 

Grantaire knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it. He closed the small distance between their mouths yet again, in a kiss much softer than it should have been. it elicited a noise of surprise from Enjolras, but before Grantaire pulled away, he kissed back just as gently. 

When they parted again, Grantaire forced himself to put some distance between them. He glanced around, looking for their friends, but none was close to them, which, honestly, was a relief, he didn’t want to explain what had just happened, especially since he wasn’t so sure himself. 

Looking at Enjolras again, the artist was momentarily awestruck: the sun was behind Enjolras, its light casting a beautiful glow around his golden hair, and making the rainbow glitter shine brightly. Grantaire wished he had a pen, some paint, something, to capture the image in front of him, and then Enjolras smiled, a wide, joyful smile that showed his teeth and dimples. It was blinding, Grantaire felt like he was looking directly at the sun, but he didn’t avert his gaze. 

* * *

**4-**

After their little public make out session at Pride, absolutely nothing had changed between Enjolras and Grantaire. Now, this was good, of course, as they could continue with their friendship, but god, it was also infuriating. 

Grantaire prided himself in one thing, his lack of hope. If he didn’t hope, he wouldn’t get disappointed, nor disenchanted; hope was a lie, wishful thinking, something people needed for comfort, but that often ended in pain. For that, he wouldn’t -couldn’t- allow himself to harbour any hope regarding Enjolras. 

Still, the situation was confusing, to say the least. The first time, Enjolras had been desperate, and he had happened to be there, much like the second; the third had been a thoughtless idea that had somehow worked. There were explanations for all of this, and yet, Grantaire was sure Enjolras had enjoyed himself both times they’d kissed. 

It was probably his lovesick mind making shit up, but no matter the reason, the thought was eating him alive. Nevertheless, he buried it deep inside, wanting to not ruin their friendship. No hope, no pain, right? 

(Wrong, the heartache didn’t go away whether there was hope or not.) 

That didn’t keep him from sketching Enjolras constantly, almost involuntarily, though, like right now. 

In fact, he was waiting for Enjolras himself to show up, having made plans to go get lunch together after their morning classes. Grantaire’s class ended a few minutes earlier, so he was sitting in one of the tables outside, close enough to both their buildings, sketching mindlessly. It had started as the drawing of a tree some meters away from him, but somehow it had turned into Enjolras’ profile. 

“Excuse me.” 

Grantaire looked up from his sketchbook, to see a girl he thought shared one of his classes. He couldn’t recall her name, but he did remember her pink hair and the tattoos on her wrist that he was sure he’d complimented once. 

“Yeah?” He replied. 

“You’re Grantaire, right?” At his nod, she continued, “We have some classes together, I’m Maria.” 

“Oh, hi,” he smiled awkwardly. 

Maria looked a bit unsure, too. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you could explain something to me? I know we’ve never talked but I kinda saw you first and...,” she trailed off, grimacing slightly. 

“Yeah, no, it’s fine, what do you need?” 

Maria seemed to relax at this, and as she took a seat in front of him, she asked him about one of the assignments they had been given. He understood her confusion, as that particular professor always gave rather weird instructions. 

“Dude, thank you so much,” she sighed once he finished. “I owe you one.” 

Grantaire chuckled. “It’s alright, it was nothing.” 

She hesitated for a second. “Perhaps you’d accept some coffee?” 

It took a moment for Grantaire to realise she was asking him on a date. He felt his eyes widen a fraction, his mind searching for a kind way to turn her down. Sure, she was cute, her dark-ish aesthetic similar to his own, and she seemed nice and easy to be around. But her hair was pink instead of blonde, her eyes not the right shade of blue, not fiery enough. 

He was saved from having to answer by Enjolras, who appeared next to them, hair slightly messed up from the wind and, probably, his power walking. He sat next to Grantaire, dropping his bag on the table unceremoniously, an annoyed expression on his face. 

“Sorry I’m late, there was this asshole that-” he cut himself as he noticed Maria in front of them, annoyance giving way to sheepishness. “Sorry, am I interrupting?” He asked, looking at Grantaire. 

Once again, he didn’t have to answer, as Maria stood up. “No, it’s fine, I was just leaving.” 

She collected her things, a smile, if maybe a bit disappointed but real nevertheless, on her face, which was seemingly directed as both of them. Grantaire wanted to ask why she didn’t wait for an answer, but he thought perhaps she’d seen the way he looked at Enjolras –even if Enjolras himself never seemed to notice. 

“Thanks again, and sorry for asking,” she said, waving shortly before she left. 

Enjolras was furrowing his brow, confused. “What was that?” 

Grantaire shrugged. “No idea.” 

“Huh... Lunch?” 

“Yeah.”

* * *

**5-**

Grantaire was sitting at a table in the Musain, an open sketchbook and a cup of coffee in front of him. 

It wasn’t uncommon for the Amis to be at the café even when there wasn’t a meeting, the place was nice, the staff knew them, the coffee was good, and it was in a convenient location, so Grantaire wasn’t surprised to see Enjolras coming in, nor approaching his table. 

The words that came out of his mouth were rather shocking, though. 

“Hi, I kinda need you to pretend to be my boyfriend?” 

He'd said it quite quickly, barely having sat down. He looked apprehensive, and Grantaire couldn’t help but compare it to The Fateful Night, already two months ago. He looked less desperate now, but the urgency was still there. 

“May I ask why?” 

Enjolras sighed, letting his head fall back, letting out what sounding close to a moan, his long neck stretching out- 

Nope, no, no, there were other business at hand right now, focus, R. 

“My parents are coming to visit, and I may have told them I had a boyfriend...” 

Grantaire repeated his question, although his tone was a tad softer; he knew a thing or two about not ideal parents. 

“I just- I don’t know, I just blurted it out,” he explained in a long-suffering voice. “It’s fine if you can’t, or don’t want to, I’ll figure something out.” 

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Grantaire. Just like that first night two months ago, he knew he should probably say no, or he’d end up with his heart hurting, but, on the other hand, Enjolras was asking for his help, and when had Grantaire been able to deny him anything? 

And that’s how, two days afterwards, he found himself dressed in his nicest clothes, waiting for Enjolras to pick him up. 

When he came, Grantaire could see he was as nervous as himself, which in turn made him even more anxious. Enjolras’ parents would surely hate him, but he really hoped this dinner wouldn’t turn out a disaster, if not only for Enjolras’ sake. 

On the bright side, the restaurant wasn’t as pretentious as he had been expecting. Sure, he’d never go there on his own, and he felt slightly out of place, but at least he wasn’t constantly afraid that he’d break something of a ridiculous worth. 

Enjolras grabbed his hand as he led them to a table, which of course didn’t make Grantaire flush at all. Enjolras hadn’t say a word so far, so, as they came to a stop, Grantaire did the only thing he could think of to try to comfort him, he squeezed his hand. He got a small, strained but real, smile in return, before Enjolras visible braced himself, turning to face the people at the table. 

“Mother, father.” 

Grantaire eyed the couple. Both were attractive, which was no surprise considering how gorgeous Enjolras was, but while their leader had this terrible yet charming look, his parents looked downright terrifying. Sure, Enjolras himself could be fearsome, Grantaire had seen it, but this was different, his parents looked unapproachable in the worst way. 

“Julien.” 

Enjolras tugged Grantaire a bit closer. “This is Grantaire, my boyfriend.” 

Oh, there was that tingly feeling again. Ignoring it, Grantaire smiled as politely as he could, “A pleasure to meet you.” 

“Likewise,” Enjolras’ father said, the slight scrunch of his nose saying otherwise. 

When the sat down, Grantaire could feel Enjolras hesitation before slowly unclasping their hands. Perhaps it was that need to provide some sort of comfort, perhaps selfishness, but either way, Grantaire brought their hands together again, resting them over his thigh. He revelled in the way Enjolras seemed to relax, even if just a tad. 

The first part of dinner was awkward, to say the least. Enjolras’ parents asked him several questions, though none of them were those that someone who actually knew Enjolras would ask; his answers were short and strained. Really it was mainly Mme Enjolras and Enjolras himself who did the talking, his father contributing rarely, while Grantaire stayed mostly silent, gently squeezing their hands now and again. 

At some point just before dessert, the conversation came to a dead end, and so Mme Enjolras turned to Grantaire. She wasn’t as frightening as her husband, not kind, per se, but at least she seemed to be making somewhat of an effort. 

“So, Grantaire,” she begun, “what is it that you do?” 

Grantaire cleared his throat. “I study Art, ma’am.” 

“He’s very talented,” chimed in Enjolras, tightening his grip in his hand. 

Grantaire felt his face grow warm at the compliment and the contact, directing his gaze to the table momentarily. 

“Oh,” Enjolras’ mother said. She hesitated, before adding, “That’s... nice. Are you planning on teaching, I assume?” 

“I actually don’t know yet.” He winced internally at his words. Hell of an impression he was making. 

Mme Enjolras looked as if she was about to add something, but her husband beat her to it. 

“For god’s sake, Julien, cut the game,” he all but snarled, disdain clear in his tone and expression. 

Enjolras tighten his grip on R’s hand. “What ‘game’ do you mean, father?” 

Oh, there it was. That was the tone Enjolras used to use back when they could only fight with each other; it dripped venom, and was a challenge. The righteous fury was back in his eyes, blue turned to steel. Grantaire brought his free hand over their clasped hands; he had a good guess as to what was coming. 

His father glared at him, scoffing. “Do you honestly believe I cannot see what is going on?” He gestured to Grantaire. “This is your way of rebelling; he is not your- your boyfriend. It is rather obvious.” 

“Phillipe-” tried his wife, but he ignored her. 

“You always go against our wishes, and what better way to do so than pretending to date _him_.” 

Logically, Grantaire knew that he shouldn’t let that comment get to him, as it was the truth after all. And that was the issue, really, that it was true. Why would Enjolras chose him of all people, hell, even just of their friends, if not to contradict his parents? Enjolras was everything Grantaire wasn’t, and it was fine, he’d accepted it long ago, but it still hurt to have it said in the open. At least they could stop pretending now, right? 

Well, wrong, apparently, as Enjolras stood up –their hands still intertwined-, slamming a hand on the table, leaning forward. 

“How dare you?” He spat out. 

His mother looked at him, then at his father, and at him again, her eyes just a bit wider that before. “Julien-” 

“No, mother, you two stop this game,” his words were slightly softer, but firm nevertheless. “Stop pretending that you know anything about me! You didn’t before, and certainly do not now.” He was breathing heavily. “Grantaire is kind, and caring, and so talented, I love him because of him, not because he is the opposite of what you want!” 

He paused. Around them, some other patrons were subtly –or not so much- trying to listen, but no one at their table payed them any mind. Grantaire was very much enthralled by Enjolras and his avenging archangel mode, so much so that he barely registered his actual words. 

Enjolras lifted his chin. “Not that I expect you to know anything about love.” 

His mother gasped, and his father looked positively outraged. Still, Grantaire didn’t have much time to look at them, as next thing he knew, Enjolras was dragging him across the restaurant to the door. 

* * *

**+1**

Grantaire let himself be dragged along the streets. He was familiar enough with Enjolras’ mood after nasty arguments, and he’d learned it was best to let him be. 

Enjolras led them with no apparent destination, he was barely seeing where he was walking. There were very little people in the street, fortunately, so they didn’t knock into anyone. After some minutes, they reached a small park. 

It was empty, and nicely lit. Grantaire wasted no time in leading Enjolras to one of the benches, gently prodding him to sit. Their hands were still clasped tight. 

For a few moments, none of them said anything. Grantaire was still processing what had just happened. His heart ached, rarely had he seen Enjolras like that; it wasn’t just anger, there was pain there, too. 

He directed his gaze to Enjolras, opening his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat. Enjolras was crying. It was silent, slow tears falling down his cheeks, as he hiccupped slightly. This was a sight he’d never seen, and if there was something Grantaire was sure about in that moment, it was that he would do everything in his power not to see it again. 

“Hey,” he called softly. 

Enjolras looked up, his eyes red. He swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice small. 

Grantaire frowned. “Whatever would you be sorry for, Apollo?” 

“For that mess.” He let his head fall to his hands, still not letting go of Grantaire’s, so his next words came out muffled, “I should have known it’d be a disaster, I never should have asked you to come.” 

Grantaire shrugged, even if Enjolras couldn’t see it. “It’s not your fault. Though bringing Combeferre or Feuilly probably would have been a better idea.” When Enjolras lifted his head and looked at him questioningly, he added, “I know I’m not the best choice to make a good impression on parents.” 

Enjolras looked affronted as he stood up, finally letting go of Grantaire’s hand. “Everything I said is true!” He exclaimed, almost disbelieving. “R, I’ve seen you with our friends, with Gavroche, you care so much, even if you don’t believe in our cause, you are always there!” 

He was pacing now. 

“You put yourself down all the time, but in reality you are- you are amazing! I mean, yes, you can be a jerk, but you’ve never been purposefully cruel, and you’re always willing to help with whatever, even if you’re busy. And do not get me started on how talented you are: you paint, and draw, and dance, and box, and play the guitar-” 

Grantaire felt his face burning. He tried to interrupt Enjolras, to tell him he hadn’t danced in a while, and he really only knew the basics of guitar, but the blond wasn’t even looking at him. In fact, it was almost as if he were talking to himself, as he paced and ran his hands through his hair, even if his voice was loud and clear, if perhaps slightly rushed. 

“-had just a fraction of your talent. Sure, I love Ferre and Feuilly, they are amazing, too, but I don’t love them like I love you, they-” Enjolras froze, horror appearing on his expression as he deliberately avoided Grantaire’s face. 

Meanwhile, it took Grantaire a few moments for Enjolras’ words to sink in. When they did, though, he felt his mouth open slightly. “Enjolras...” 

This made him face him. “I- just, forget I said anything, I-” 

Slowly, Grantaire stood up, the small speech from the restaurant coming to his mind as he approached Enjolras. “Apollo,” he begun, but was interrupted. 

“No, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” Enjolras brushed his hair back again, messing it up even more; the dim lighting of the park made it look like a halo around his head. “I know how you feel, I promise not to make it weird between us, really, let’s just forget I said anything, _please_.” 

He sounded so earnest, and Grantaire was very confused. He was surprised at how even his voice was, as internally he was freaking out. “Apollo, please look at me,” he asked, taking a step closer. 

They were close enough now that he could see the freckles peppering Enjolras’ face even in the dark. Reluctantly, Enjolras met his eyes. 

“What do mean ‘how I feel’?” He pressed, a hint of desperation in his words. 

Enjolras chuckled humourlessly. “Will you really make me say it?” 

“ _Please_.” 

He sighed, his eyes flickering over Grantaire’s shoulder before settling on his again, familiar determination now clear in them as he visibly steeled himself. “You surely must know, I have been told I’m not subtle, but if you want me to say it, then well.” A pause. “I love you. As a friend, yes, but also as in, I am in love with you.” 

Grantaire was frozen in his place, his face unmoving. Enjolras looked at him intently for a fraction of a second, before turning his head, his gaze directed to the ground. 

“These past few months have been wonderful, we’ve talked without fighting, we’ve been friends, real friends, and I’ve loved it, but it’s also hurt me. I liked you before, as insufferable as you were, but I’ve fallen head over heels. I’d apologise, I really don’t want to jeopardise our friendship, but I don’t have it in me to feel sorry for loving you. 

“I was managing, keeping my feelings to myself, I know you just like me as a friend, and it’s fine, really! I wouldn’t expect anything else. But then at that party...,” he sighed,” I was telling the truth when I told you you were the first person I’d come across. But then it kept happening! It broke my heart, you know, knowing what it could, but never would, be. 

“I wasn’t planning on confessing anything tonight, but still, all I said before, I mean it. It may not be easy to be in love with you, god knows you’re a pain in the ass many times, but I cannot conceive not doing it, nor will I apologise. You deserve to be loved, know that. If you want me to go away, I’ll understand, but please know I appreciate your friendship greatly.” 

As he finished, he tentatively looked up again, only to find Grantaire with shiny eyes. 

Grantaire knew Enjolras well enough to understand the meaning behind his words and his tone. He knew when he was just being polite, when he was lying though his teeth, when he truly believed what he was saying. And now, it seemed, he was telling the truth; for whatever reason, Enjolras loved him, was _in love_ with him.

“Please, say something,” he pleaded, and only then Grantaire realised he had been staring at him but not uttering a word. 

“Oh, angel,” he breathed, the punny endearment rolling thoughtlessly out of his lips,” you are so very wrong.” 

At Enjolras’ furrowed brow, he took another step closer, leaving just mere inches between them. “Being your friend is delightful, Apollo, but if you permit it, I would love to be more.” 

“What do you mean, R?” He asked, hope laced with wariness in his tone. 

Grantaire smiled, one of his hands settling gently on Enjolras’ waist, the other going to his face, his thumb gently drying the remanent of his tears. Enjolras, though hesitant, didn’t waste time lacing his arms around his neck; in fact, it seemed like it almost had been a reflex. He felt positively giddy. “It means, that I’m in love with you as well.” 

“You are?” 

“I have been since the moment I met you, perhaps even before,” he replied in earnest. “But these last few months have been helpful, too.” 

At this, Enjolras laughed, his body finally relaxing against Grantaire’s. They looked at each other, beaming, for some time, neither of them breaking the now comfortable silence that had installed, pressed close together and basking in the other’s warmth. 

After a while, though, Grantaire couldn’t help but ask, “Can I kiss you?” 

Enjolras faked pensiveness. “We’re way past our first kiss, don’t you reckon?” 

Grantaire rolled his eyes, a smile still on his face, but before he could retort, Enjolras was kissing him. 

This was nothing like their other kisses. For starters, it was incredibly gentle, but also certain. Before, he’d wanted to commit every detail to memory, from the shape of Enjolras’ body under his, to the feeling of his lips against his own and the noises he’d made. Now, there was no rush whatsoever; not that it made him appreciate the kiss any less, but this time Grantaire knew it wouldn’t be the last, it wasn’t his only chance to experience this. Enjolras seemed to be thinking the same, making little noises of contentment against his lips. 

They took their sweet time, their kisses soft and innocent, loving. There was something to be said about kissing the person you loved, and knowing they loved you back. 

When the pulled away, Enjolras took Grantaire’s hand on his own, much like earlier in the night, this time bringing it to his lips and kissing his knuckles. There was adoration in his eyes, which he knew was in his own as well, and Grantaire didn’t know if he had been too blind to see it before, or perhaps Enjolras hadn’t allowed it to show, but either way, it was there now, and it made him even more beautiful. 

“What?” He asked, tilting his head slightly to the side in a decidedly adorable manner. 

Grantaire shook his head, smiling. “I just really love you.” 

Enjolras beamed at him, and Grantaire’s heart jumped in joy as he realised he was now allowed to say it. Squeezing his hand, leaned over to kiss Enjolras’ forehead, receiving in return a peck on the cheek, before they started to walk back home. 

**Author's Note:**

> feuilly actually saw them kissing at pride, and naturally told everyone, so they all thought they were together since then, but said nothing so as not to scare them. of course, everyone laughed at them when they found out what really happened


End file.
